


Bargain Bin Love

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Like Super Mild Feminization, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Coupons, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6441211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean buys them on a whim for Sam's birthday, and it turns into an exploration of preferences for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quickie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiddenscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenscribbles/gifts).



> Tags to be updated as each chapter posts.

Prologue:

 

It feels cheesy, and Dean almost tosses the little booklet in the garbage. He’s not sure what possessed him to buy it, only that he had no idea what else to get Sam for his birthday.

 

Sam looks a little amused when he fishes out of the gift bag, lost in the crumpled tissue paper surrounding the bottle of whiskey Dean had picked up. He thumbs through it, eyebrows raising now and again as he reads through each “coupon.”

 

“You . . .  are you sure about all of these, Dean?” There’s a beat of silence, and Sam sighs. “You didn’t even read all of them, did you?”

 

“No I guess - I trust you, Sammy. Whatever you want, man.” Dean tries to shrug casually, even though anxiety twists in his gut.

 

“You trust me. So if I asked you to ah, ‘Invite another man for a threesome,’ you’d be okay with that?”

 

“No!” It’s not a squeak, it’s fucking not, but Dean can feel himself blush anyway. “I mean, I - Do you want that?”

 

“It’s not just about me, Dean. It’s about _us_. And I’d never ask you for anything you’re not okay with. So let’s just . . . talk about it, okay? We’ll pick the ones we’re both at least interested in, and get rid of the rest. But I’ll bring them to you when I’m read to ‘redeem’ them,” Sam scrambles to add the last, seeing the fight on Dean’s face.

 

“Doesn’t seem like much of a gift, that way,” Dean grumbles.

 

“It is. We’ll try new stuff, together. And, besides, you’re still letting me pick what and when, right?”

 

“Alright.”

 

Alright, at least until Sam’s calmly explaining just what each of the cards means and Dean wonders why in the hell he agreed to this. His little brother has an almost disturbingly broad knowledge of kink, and has no qualms about sharing every bit of it. By the end, that have about a third of the cards left.

 

“Okay. So these are good?” Sam prompts again, gentle like he knows Dean’s nerves are a little shot.

 

“Yeah, we’re good Sammy.” Dean accepts the kiss Sam leans in to give him, relaxing some against his brother’s mouth.

 

Chapter 1: A Quickie

 

Jody’s got a nice stretch behind her house, woods leading down to a creek and Sam lures Dean out for a walk. “Help all that food settle” is what he says. What he does is hold out a little slip of paper for Dean to take.

 

“You’re kiddin’ me. Now?”

 

Sam grins, that dirty little smirk most people wouldn’t dream he’s capable of. “Just read it.”

 

“‘Redeem for one quickie.’ Naughty, Sam. And here I thought you were worried about my health.”

 

“Shut up,” Sam laughs, backing Dean against a nearby tree. He’s big enough to block out most of the woods around him, body warmth chasing away the faint chill in the spring air. Huge hands cup Dean’s face, tilting up him up at just the right angle for Sam to press their mouths gently together. Dean’s always been easy for Sammy’s kisses, dropping his hands to his brother’s waist to pull the younger man closer, parting his lips to let Sam’s tongue dip inside.

 

“Sweet big brother,” Sam whispers, and Dean’d punch him if anyone were around to hear. What he does instead is blush and tiptoe up to kiss Sam again. Long hair brushes his cheeks as Sam dips down, shifting the angle so he can get that much closer.

 

Making out in the woods drags back a lot of memories of being teenagers, sneaking out so Dad or Bobby or Pastor Jim wouldn’t catch them in a lip-lock. Dean loses himself in slow kisses and warm hands stroking up and down his sides or brushing along his jawline.

 

“They’re gonna wonder where we are,” he finally manages to say.

 

“Mmm, guess we’re not good at this quick thing, huh?” Sam picks up the pace, though, undoing their jeans and toeing off one of Dean’s boots so he can coax a pantleg off. Dean grunts when Sam picks him up, pinning him solidly against the tree. He wraps his legs around Sam’s waist, trying to contribute to holding himself up, but Dean knows Sam’s doing most of the work.

 

“Jesus Sammy.” Dean protests half-heartedly, but there’s a lube packet being shoved at his mouth, and he obligingly rips it open. Long, slick fingers swirl around his hole, dipping just inside before slipping away. Sam nudges his cock just against Dean, a warning before he pushes in, dropping Dean down just enough to sink inside him fully. Cursing, Dean digs his nails into Sam’s shoulders, body protesting the stretch.

 

Sam kisses him softly, apology wrapped in a tender press of lips. “Say when.”

 

“Just _move_ , Sam. Fuck.” Even rocking slow, Sam’s deep in him and grinding along his prostate. He mashes their mouths back together, muffling his whines in Sam’s mouth, fearful of them carrying through the woods. Dean doesn’t have much leverage, not if he doesn’t want to throw them off balance or scrape his back up with the bark. Still, Sam knows just how to roll his hips, fucking into Dean a little faster.

 

“Touch yourself, Dean I- I can’t so you gotta.”

 

Rucking up his own shirt, Dean strokes his cock, moaning in stuttery moans as his brother pounds him harder and faster, every jolt sending sparks through his veins. He wants to beg _hardermorefaster_ , but Sam’s pressing so close that Dean can’t quite break their mouths apart.

 

Dean’s head smacks against the tree when he comes, body arching so hard it almost hurts as he spurts across his belly, come running down his torso and soaking into Sam’s shirt. He’s sore and sweaty and feeling way too damn good when Sam finally shudders and comes with a low groan. Sam lets him down gently, making sure wobbly legs are going to hold Dean up before stepping way to yank up his own jeans.

 

“Good?” Sam asks, helping Dean back into his own clothes and pecking him on the cheek.

 

“Fuck yes.”

 

 _Maybe those coupons will be worth it after all,_ Dean thinks as they head back up to the house.


	2. Oral Sex

When Sam brings him the coupon for “Oral Sex,” Dean figured his brother wanted a blowjob. Of course, it’s not that simple with Sam. It’s  _ never _ that simple with Sam. 

 

“You want to what?” Dean says flatly. 

 

“I want to rim you. You can’t tell me you don’t know what it is, man, I’ve seen your porn history-” 

 

“That isn’t the  _ point _ Sam. Point is, your tongue is not going anywhere near my ass.” 

 

Sam gives him that look, that fucking  _ I was a law student  _ look, and Dean braces himself for the coming argument. 

 

“It’s not that different than me having your dick in my mouth, Dean.” 

 

“The hell it’s not! At least urine is like, sterile or whatever. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be about me doing things for you?” 

 

“Actually, it’s not. Either way, I’d prefer you shower first, maybe even prep yourself a little ‘cause honestly I’m going to want to fuck you after. And you  _ would _ be doing something for me, Dean. You’d be allowing me to rim you.” 

 

Dean looks at the faintly wrinkled paper in his hand. Sam’s right, of course. He’s watched guys and girls alike getting . . . rimmed, and it was pretty hot. He just never thought about Sam wanting to do that to him. 

 

Sam scoots a little closer, closing his hand over Dean’s open one. “Wanna eat you out Dean, see what kind of pretty noises you make with my tongue inside you. Can I?” 

 

A slow breath in and out settles Dean’s nerves just enough. “Yeah, Sammy. Okay.” 

 

“We’ll stop if you dislike it, I promise.” Sam kisses him soft and sweet, which relaxes Dean more than the breath did. 

 

“M’gonna go shower.” 

 

Stripping out of his clothes, Dean takes his time in the shower. He scrubs every inch of himself from head to toe. It’s strange, slipping his fingers between his own cheeks and washing there with full knowledge that Sam wants to put his mouth  _ there _ . He sucks those Sam fingers into his mouth, wetting them with enough spit to tease them inside and stretch himself open. 

 

Sam’s ditched his flannel and shoes, waiting on the bed in only a tee and jeans. He spreads his knees and holds his arms up for Dean to step into. Dean can’t help but smile when Sam nuzzles along his chest and belly. Long brown hair is soft between Dean’s fingers as they dance across Sam’s scalp, following his little brother’s movements when he starts peppering kisses over Dean’s torso. 

 

“Lay down?” Sam asks softly, rubbing his hands along the bare backs of Dean’s thighs. 

 

The scratchy motel towel drops to the floor, leaving Dean bare and damp skin prickling in the cool air. Sam pulls off the cheap bedspread so Dean can settle on the softer sheets underneath, legs spread for Sam to crawl between them. He leans down to brush his lips over Dean’s, and his mouth blazes a soft trail right down to the delicate skin just beside Dean’s cock. 

 

“Can I?” 

 

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean spreads his legs further, lifting them up to make more room for Sam. Big hands slide beneath him and push his ass up further, right up to Sam’s mouth. 

 

The first lap makes him shiver, wiggling in Sam’s hold until those hands tighten, urging him still. Sam eats him out like his life depends on it, swirling his tongue and sucking in turns. Each tentative prod makes Dean’s hole flutter and he finds himself grasping at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself. 

 

“S-Sam-” The sensation is overwhelming, slick and tingly and too fucking good. Sam groans against Dean’s hole, suckling at it in a way that makes Dean writhe. He arches up when Sam’s tongue finally nudges inside, gasping at the warm, wet feel of it. It’s nothing like a cock or finger or any of the toys Sam’s used on him before. Sam wriggles his tongue in as deep as it will go, dipping it and out in a mimicry of the way he fucks Dean. 

 

Dean manages to untangle the fingers of one hand from the sheets and fist them into Sam’s hair. He’s not sure if he’s trying to pull Sam closer or push him away; either way, he can’t deny the whine of disappointment when Sam breaks away with a gasp, leaning his cheek against Dean’s trembling thigh. 

 

“God, Dean. You’re, you’re so fucking - I wanna fuck you, please?” Red-cheeked and wide-eyed, Sam’s nearly as incoherent as Dean is, and that only sends another pulse of pleasure through Dean. He tugs Sam up by his hair, not caring about the spit smeared over his brother’s mouth and face as Dean crushes their lips together. Sam takes it for the answer that it is, nabbing the lube from the bedside and sliding two slick fingers inside Dean. He takes it easy, relaxed from the rimming and he has no patience for anymore of Sam’s foreplay. 

 

Dean shoves Sam back enough to get at his jeans, tugging his belt and zipper open and pulling out his brother’s cock. Sam spreads the lube left on his hand over his cock and guides Dean back down on the bed. A beat, two, and Sam’s lining up and pushing in, groaning loud next to Dean’s ear. 

 

“Thank you,” Sam murmurs as he starts to thrust, rolling his hips in a familiar, steady beat. Dean tries to respond, but his words come out as nothing more than a soft moan. He wraps his arms around Sam’s back, legs locking around his waist. They’re chest to chest, sweat building between them and letting their skin slide easy as Sam rocks into Dean. Sam’s belly drags along Dean’s cock, just enough friction to coax him closer and closer to coming. 

 

Dean’s surprised when Sam comes first, cry tearing from his mouth as his hips stutter. He strokes Sam’s back, letting him ride out the orgasm and feeling the wet of Sam’s come inside him. Sam catches his breath enough to lean up and get his hand between them, stroking Dean’s cock with that twisty stroke that never fails to get him off. 

 

“Shit, Sammy,”  Dean breathes against his brother’s mouth when he comes. It’s good, leaving him warm and wet and shivery beneath the warmth of Sam’s body. Sam takes enough time to strip off his shirt, wiping Dean dry between his legs before tossing the dirty garment on the floor. He collapses next to Dean, wriggling out of his jeans so they can spoon comfortably. 

 

“Not terrible, right?” 

 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, could say that. Might wanna try a better argument next time, hot shot. You weren’t exactly convincing.” 

  
“And yet here we are.” Sam laughs when Dean jabs him with an elbow, nuzzling against the fine hair at the back of Dean’s neck. 


	3. Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little more fluffy and less smutty than the others. I hope y'all still enjoy it.

They’re in between hunts, relaxing at the bunker. Dean’s taken the opportunity to give Baby a tuneup, and Sam’s organizing his notes from their latest hunts. Sam comes to find him around supper, just when Dean’s stirring tomatoes into the soup on the stove. He holds out the now-familiar slip of white paper, and Dean probably shouldn’t even be surprised at what it says. 

 

“Cuddling? Really?” 

 

Sam just gives him a look, and Dean sighs. Together, they dish soup into bowls, grabbing crackers, cheese, and water to take with them. Dean sets the burner to low and pops a lid on the pot, knowing they’ll eventually be back for more.

 

Obviously, Sam has planned ahead. The couch is covered in blankets and extra pillows, and the TV has the menu for Captain America playing. Dean kicks off his boots and stuffs his socks inside, settling down to eat as Sam hits play on the DVD player and plops down beside him. 

 

There’s no denying it’s nice, this kind of domesticity. Dean gives a little sigh when they’re done eating and Sam tugs him into his arms, laying back so Dean’s sprawled over his chest. He lets himself get lost in Sam’s body warmth and Steve Rogers’ transformation from skinny kid to super soldier. 

 

“Kinda like you, huh Sammy?” Dean murmurs just so he can grin at Sam’s  “Shut up, Dean.” 

 

Steve’s expression when he hears about Bucky always twists something up inside Dean. It’s even worse when Bucky falls from the train, and he can’t help the way he instinctively clings that much tighter to Sam. 

 

“S’okay. I’m here,” Sam murmurs, rubbing along Dean’s back. 

 

“I know.” 

 

It’s hard to concentrate though, the image of Sam jumping into the pit lingering in the back of Dean’s mind. He startles when strong hands shift him, but he goes willingly into the kiss Sam’s going for. 

 

“I’m  _ here _ Dean.” 

 

The movie fades into the background as Dean moves up for a better angle. Sam’s lips are chapped, warm and firm beneath his own. Long fingers slide into his hair, cradling his head and Dean melts a little. He feels a bit like a teenager, making out on the couch while the TV runs, but there are no adults to catch them, to make them spring apart with red faces and stuttered excuses. There’s just the warm puff of Sam’s breath against his face, a solid body beneath his own, and familiar hands roaming his back and sides. 

 

Taking a nip at Sam’s bottom lip, Dean smiles when he feels his little brother’s hips twitch. He grinds a tiny bit in answer, and pulls away to look Sam in the face. 

 

“Thought you just wanted to cuddle.” 

 

Sam’s expression goes from aroused to flabbergasted so fast Dean can’t quite stifle his laugh. 

 

“Oh my God, you’re an asshole.” The protest is half hearted - although Sam does swat at Dean’s ass in retaliation. 

 

“Blue balls don’t kill Sammy boy. Save it for later.” Dean settles back down against his brother’s chest, reaching around to tug a blanket over them. He rises and falls with Sam’s sigh, but Sam just helps tuck the blanket around them, wrapping his arm back around Dean and turning his attention back to the movie.  

 

As the credits creep closer, Dean subtly starts rocking. Sam doesn’t protest, doesn’t even say anything at first, but his flagging erection perks right back up at the attention. They just make it to the end of the movie, focus shot as they move together. 

 

One of Sam’s feet hits the floor as he spreads his legs, making more room for Dean between them. Their mouths slide and press, nipping and brushing in turns. Dean moans when Sam’s hands grip his ass, guiding his movements so their cocks drag along each other through their jeans. 

 

“You gonna come for me, big brother? Cream your pants like we’re teenagers again?” 

 

Sam’s words drag up memories of doing this very thing on dozens of ratty couches and smoke-musty motel beds. Sam doesn’t smell little-boy sweet anymore, though. He smells like musk and cologne and the faintest hint of gunpowder. It makes Dean’s mouth water. 

 

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his head down onto his brother’s shoulder as his cock pulses in his pants. Come floods over his skin, sticky-warm and wet, soaking through his boxers. It helps the fabric drag along his sensitive length as Sam continues to move, and Dean bites down on Sam’s collarbone. Sure enough, the little spark of pain is enough to get Sam there, and he comes with a soft grunt. 

 

The DVD has come back to the opening menu, music playing as a backdrop to their panted breaths. Come cools in their underwear, growing more uncomfortable the longer they wait, but Dean can’t quite seem to give a damn. 

 

“We need a shower, dude,” Sam sighs after a while. “M’getting tacky over here.” He wiggles a little under Dean to prove his point and yeah, okay, gross. 

 

They head to the shower room and peel off their clothes, dumping in them in the hamper by the door. Taking turns washing each other is nice, a soothing compliment to their evening. Sam had talked him into splurging a little on good body wash and shampoo, and so far it’s worth every penny just to see all that muscle covered in sweet-smelling suds. 

 

“Soup?” Dean questions as they towel off. Sam nods and follows him to the living room, scooping up their bowls to save dishes. The soup’s still warm, although Dean makes a face when he realizes some of the macaroni has stuck to the bottom of the pot. Another bowl of warm food and Sam is yawning, dragging Dean down along with him. 

 

“C’mon. Bedtime, kiddo.” Dean has to stop him from going to clean up by catching him by the arm as they pass the living room, shaking his head. “Leave it. It’ll keep.” 

  
Bed’s nice, cozy, and there’s not a protest to be heard when Sam arranges them so he’s big spoon. Dean’s not sure he even dreams that night.


	4. Adventurous Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this to be way more smutty than it was, but . . . . yeah. The boys had other plans, evidently.

It’s not unheard of for Dean to let Sam drive the Impala. It’s just . . . rare if it’s not necessary. Dean likes to be behind the wheel of his baby, road stretched out in front of him and little brother to his right. Today, though, Sam had sworn he had a surprise for Dean and all but begged to take the wheel. 

 

“Trust me,” he’d murmured, brushing the back of his knuckles along the front of Dean’s jeans. It was more than enough to have Dean handing over the keys and sliding into the passenger seat. 

 

They drive down mostly familiar roads, headed south. Dean’s a little surprised when they pull up to a bar he remembers for its burgers and tap beer. Sam just smiles at him and slides out. They’d left late enough that the sun is just starting to go down, and there’s a steady stream of traffic in and out of the parking lot. 

 

Sam takes lead, tugging the heavy metal door open and sliding inside, holding it just enough for Dean to catch and follow. Inside the bar is dim, mostly lit with the lights over the pool tables and the neons along the walls. A bit more comes from the whirling ceiling fans as they stir the wisps of cigarette smoking trailing up from scattered tables. Not exactly a family joint, but not too skeevy either. 

 

The waitress they get is pretty, probably barely old enough to work here, but she smiles at them sweet and takes their order without even writing it down. She grins a little harder when she returns with their drinks and sees how Sam has tangled their fingers together on the tabletop. 

 

“Y’all are cute,” she says softly when she brings their food, faint drawl of the midwest tinging her words. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

 

“So, what’re you butterin’ me up for, Sammy?” Dean says around a mouthful of fries. 

 

Sam smiles, sweet and innocent like he hasn’t been since he was 15. “Thought we’d have a nice night out. Date night, you know?” 

 

“Right. You got an ocean front property you’re sellin’ too?” Dean lets it go, though. The food is good and the beer is better. Sam gets a couple of rolls of quarters from the bartender, and Dean gladly scurries off to fill the jukebox queue with classic rock. The rest go towards game after game of pool. Some Dean plays with Sam, but the others he plays with the locals. He doesn’t bet, doesn’t want to ruin his reputation here so he can come back. They’re friendly games, the other men shaking their heads when Dean mops the floor with them. 

 

On a run back to the bar for more beers, Sam notices another man approaching Dean. At first, it looks like the guy’s just another pool-player, but Sam sees him slide a hand along Dean’s arm as he reaches for a pool cue. He expects jealousy to flare; instead, he leans back against the counter to watch. Dean smiles, nice but confused. They rack up the balls, and Dean lets the guy break. Sam watches the guy try to flirt, and finally heads back over when Dean’s eyes find him at the bar. 

 

“Hey, man,” Sam greets the stranger. He’s pretty, blond hair and blue eyes, and he nods in acknowledgement. Passing over Dean’s beer, Sam allows his fingers to linger on the back of his brother’s hand for just a moment, long enough to make his claim clear. 

 

“Uh, sorry. I-” the guy starts, but Sam just waves the apology off.

 

“It’s cool. No harm done.” 

 

Dean and the guy finish out their game, and of course Dean comes out the winner. Blond guy thanks him and gives Sam another nod as he walks away. Settling his cue back on the rack, Dean leans against the wall next to his brother. 

 

“Thought that guy was gonna keel over when he realized I was taken.” 

 

“Yeah, well. He was good about it. Plus I kinda like seeing people pine after something they can’t have because it’s mine.”

 

“Asshole.” Dean can’t fight off his smile, leaning in to give Sam a quick peck on the lips. 

 

“Your asshole. You wanna get outta here?” Sam replies with a shit-eating grin. He laughs when Dean punches him in the shoulder for the crappy pick up line. Paying their tab, they return the waitress’ enthusiastic little wave before heading out the door. 

 

“What else you got planned, Romeo?” 

 

“You’ll see.” 

 

What Dean ends up seeing is . . . not much, frankly. Sam drives them down a dirt road, straddling the ruts as it trickles down into nothing but an empty field. It’s dark as hell, the moon only a sliver in the sky, but once Dean gets out, he realizes the sky itself is a hell of a lot to look at. Sam digs the cooler and a blanket out of the trunk, a soft one from the bunker that still smells fresh and clean. Together, they spread it over the Impala’s hot hood and sprawl out on top of her, Dean cradled against Sam’s side. 

 

Dean’ll admit, this is nice. Sam is warm beside him, and his baby is warm below him. The Milky Way is prominent out here, without any artificial lights to dull its presence. He sips beer carefully, glad they’re propped up against the windshield so he doesn’t have to lever himself up every time he wants a drink. Sam drops their empties over the driver’s side so they can be picked up before they go. 

Dean’s dozing against Sam shoulder when his brother shakes him and presses a tiny piece of paper into his palm. “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he grumbles, unfolding the thing and squinting at it in the dark. “Adventurous Sex, huh.” 

 

“C’mon. Stars and beer and your car - don’t tell me you’ve never thought about this.” Dean gives a token grumble as Sam shifts away, but the younger Winchester is right back, straddling his brother’s lap. “You took my virginity in this car, Dean.” 

 

The mere reminder makes Dean blush, cock steadily hardening in his jeans, especially when Sam starts to rock himself ever so slightly. Sam’s hair brushes Dean’s cheeks when he leans down for a kiss, and Dean can’t help but tuck a stray lock behind his brother’s ear, ignoring the way Sam’s lips curl in a smile against his mouth. 

 

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam murmurs as he sits up. Stripping off his shirts, Sam’s hands go for Dean’s tee shirt him, coaxing it up and off. They have to separate to kick off their boots and jeans, but it’s worth it when Sam crawls back onto Dean’s lap. 

 

The soft skin of Sam’s sack teases along the inside of Dean’s thighs as he settles, and Dean slides a hand between them to cup his brother’s balls, rolling them in his palm just to hear Sam moan. He teases one finger back behind them, just to circle Sam’s hole lightly, smiling against Sam’s mouth when his brother pulls his face up into a kiss. 

 

“You remember the lube boyscout?” 

 

Sam huffs a laugh and reaches behind him, snatching up the bottle lost in the wrinkles of the blanket. Dean slicks that same finger, sliding it back down. It goes in easy, smoothed by lube and years of practice. He doesn’t protest when Sam takes the bottle, but Dean’s breath catches as one of Sam’s own fingers pushes in next to his. Together, they stretch Sam open and slick him up, each of them buried two fingers-deep before Sam breaks. 

 

Grabbing the lube back up, Sam strokes some over Dean’s cock, dragging a low groan out of him. It takes some doing to line up just right, but it’s more than worth it when Dean finally pushes inside Sam. His fingers dig in the back of Sam’s thighs, guiding his slow descent until he’s seated back in Dean’s lap. They build a slow and steady rhythm, the creaking of the Impala impossibly loud in the quiet of the empty field.

 

Dean reaches up to tug Sam down, keeping their mouths close so he can brush their lips together and feel the breath of every sound that his brother makes. The world narrows down to them and the Impala, the clench of muscle and sweet zings of pleasure. They know this, know each other better than they know anything else, and it doesn’t take long for either of them to come. 

 

Sam shudders first, closing the distance between their mouths to muffle the sound he makes when he spills between them. Sticky-warm come splatters against Dean’s belly, trickling down toward where they’re joined. With two fingers, he scoops it up, breaking the kiss to push come-coated digits into Sam’s mouth. Feeling Sam clenching around his cock and sucking his own come from Dean’s fingers is enough to get Dean there, his hips pushing upward with the instinct to bury himself as deep inside his partner as he can. 

  
They’ve only managed to wipe themselves up a little and pull their boxers and jeans on before the sound of a truck breaks the silence. Laughing with the rush of renewed adrenaline, they scramble back into the car, and Dean drives her like a pro back down the rutted road until it slowly transforms back into blacktop. The old rancher they pass doesn’t look amused, but his truck isn’t fast enough to keep up with the Impala. Dean tangles their fingers together on the seat as he drives, peeling back towards town and the motel, knowing full well he probably looks like an idiot with how big he’s smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam’s straightforward about the next coupon he brings Dean. They’re just finishing cleaning up the lunch dishes, finally settled in the domestic routine. Sam tugs him in for a kiss, brief and sweet before just handing the coupon over. 

 

Dean gulps a little, but tries to keep his expression calm as “Redeem for A Sex Slave for a Night” stares back at him in fancy script. He knows Sam has had kinkier partners than him - the escapades he got up to with Jessica alone covered a good portion of the board - but he’s never pushed Dean branch out. Dean knows, deep down, that he’s vanilla in comparison, but he also trusts his brother with his life. 

 

“You have all afternoon. Do whatever you want, but after 6 pm, your pretty ass is mine,” Sam breathes, voice husky and Dean shivers as his brother slips away. 

 

Trying to find something to kill the afternoon proves to be not easy. Dean washes and tunes the IMpala, but constant garage access means she doesn’t need all that much work. He cleans his room, throws in some laundry, but even by the time that’s done, it’s only 3:30. After trying to help Sam with some of the catalogue, Dean gives up, heading for the shower. 

 

He wants to touch, but he’s not sure what Sam has in store for him. Instead, he cleans himself thoroughly, teasing a finger just against his hole as he washes between his cheeks. He can feel the clench and flutter, and a part of him really hopes Sam intends on fucking him tonight. 

 

Sam’s nowhere in sight as Dean walks to their room, and - for just a moment - he debates whether he should dress up or dress down. In the end, he settles for jeans and a black tee, leaving his flannel, socks, and boots behind. He means to start supper, but Sam’s already there. 

 

“I thought we’d get started early,” he tosses over his shoulder. “If that’s okay with you, of course.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean agrees softly. 

 

Sam guides him through cutting up fruit and slicing meat until they’ve arranged it with soft bread and cheese on a tray. Dean follows as his brother scoops up the tray and a pitcher of water, leading him back to their room. They wind up sitting on the bed, Sam leaning against the headboard while Dean’s cradled between his brother’s thighs and against his chest. 

 

“Really?” Dean blurts when Sam holds a piece of cantaloupe up to his lips. He can feel Sam’s sigh, and opens his mouth obediently, but the fruit stays out of range. 

 

“Dean. You will tell me if you don’t like this, right?” There’s tension in the strong muscles along Dean’s back, quivering in the thighs pressed up against his own. 

 

“Promise.” He takes the offered melon this time, tongue just swiping at the juice leftover on Sam’s fingers before he can pull away. The fruit is sweet, and Sam alternates between bites of of the rest, balancing it all out until the tray is almost empty. He pours water one handed, drinking some himself before guiding the glass to Dean’s lips. 

 

It’s nice, in an odd way, being doted on like this. Not that Sam’s never taken care of him before, but being hand-fed and cradled is not something Dean thought would ever happen. 

 

“Good boy,” Sam murmurs as he sets the glass aside. Their proximity means there’s no way for Dean to hide his shiver. 

 

Long fingers dance down Dean’s chest, teasing at nipples through the fabric of his tee shirt. Sam strokes his belly, alternating between ghosting brushes and slow rubs until he’s rucked Dean’s shirt up enough for him to touch skin. A thumb rolls over a nipple, and the drag of Sam’s calluses makes Dean suck in a breath. 

 

“Should clamp these. Get them cherry red and tender, til you’re so wound up I could just blow on them to make you come.” 

 

“Jesus Sam.” 

 

“Would you like that?” Sam asks, pinching a tender nub between his fingers and rolling it gently just to hear Dean gasp. 

 

“I-I don’t know -” 

 

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to decide right now.” Sam gives the other nipple the same treatment as the first, laughing quietly when Dean’s back arches into the touch. He rubs them gently to soothe the slight ache, and trails his hands further down. 

 

One fingertip dances around Dean’s navel, and the other slides just beneath the hem of his jeans to tease at the fine hair above the line of his boxers. Deftly, Sam undoes Dean’s jeans, slipping a hand inside to curl around his cock. There’s no stroking, just a gentle hold and easy fondle as Sam gathers up Dean’s balls into his palm. 

 

“Take these off,” Sam orders, tugging at the open vee of denim. Dean levers himself up, and together they push and kick the jeans down and off the bed, boxers dragged along for the ride. When they settle back down, Sam’s knees are on the inside of Dean’s, holding his legs open. 

 

There’s a pop of a cap, and Sam’s fingers come back slicked with lube. He wastes no time in nudging them beneath Dean’s balls, swirling cool liquid over warm skin. His fingers always get so deep inside Dean, nudging at his prostate, and making him clench. Like now, Dean arches in his brother’s lap, head dropping to Sam’s shoulder as he gasps. 

 

“Pretty cockslut,” Sam whispers and Jesus the mouth on him. “Gonna take me so good, aren’t you, big brother?” 

 

“C-christ, Sammy.” Red burns hot in Dean’s cheeks, but he nods anyway, knowing Sam can feel it. There’s a quick movement beneath him as Sam laughs. 

 

“Knew you would. Come on, baby, lift up.” 

 

Together they get Dean up enough for Sam to line up, and one big hand braces Dean’s thigh as he slowly sinks down on his brother’s cock. It’s a stretch, long and thick and so familiar that it’s damn-near comfortable. Sam gets a little deeper than normal like this, with Dean’s full weight in his lap, and the first nudge he gives of his hips makes Dean groan aloud. 

 

With a few tentative thrusts, Sam finds just the right angle to fuck up into Dean, driving breathy sounds from between his lips every time his cock sinks in deep. The fingers of one hand latch onto a nipple, rolling and tugging it until it’s tender and hot, every touch jolting right down to Dean’s cock. He reaches down to stroke himself, wanting to chase the orgasm winding itself up in his gut, but Sam knocks his hand away, abandoning the abused nipple to grasp Dean’s cock himself. 

 

“Close, Sammy I’m so fucking - fuck!” Dean shudders and writhes a little when Sam clamps down on the base of his dick, just enough to keep him from spilling. His body twitches with denied orgasm and a plea dives off the tip of his tongue. “N-no, Sam, Sammy pl-please I can’t-” 

 

“You can. You will, for me. Just hang on, and be a good boy, Dean.” Sam keeps his pace, fucking quick and hard into his brother, sparks of too-good pleasure racing up to throb where Sam is holding Dean back. It’s only when Sam’s own orgasm starts to near - evident in his jerky thrusts - that he starts stroking Dean again. 

 

And then he stops. Again. Stops moving, stops stroking Dean and Dean’s not sure he’s going to survive this experience. He’s going to go crazy and Sam’s going to break his dick before either of them come, Dean’s sure,  and he half thinks that maybe he’s talking out loud cause Sam laughs in his ear again. Finally, Sam sticks to his pace, jerking Dean off in time with his thrusts, burying his cock deep and hard and fast, leaving Dean to grip whatever he can reach moments before he flies apart. 

 

A cry fills the room, agony and pleasure balled up in one sound that Dean doesn’t immediately realize is coming from him. Coming hurts and feels so impossibly good that he can’t quite catch his breath, and he only realizes Sam has come by the wetter feeling inside him. 

 

“Tryin’ to break me,” Dean finally manages, long after Sam has gone soft and slipped out. He’s still cradled against his brother’s chest, bodies slick with sweat and come drying on his belly. 

  
“Never,” Sam murmurs, too soft and tender compared to the quip Dean expected. He turns his head just enough to get a kiss, petting a finger along the pulse in Sam’s wrist before they head to the showers.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean doesn’t think anything of the blueberries that Sam chicken-scratches onto the grocery list. He tosses a couple of the little clamshell containers into the cart next to the eggs and gallon of milk. Sam’s there, of course, when Dean gets back, helping to carry the groceries from car to kitchen. He doesn’t say anything about the slip of paper clipped where the grocery list usually goes, just packs away the things Dean has bought and steals a kiss before heading back to the research he’s doing for Charlie. 

 

The coupon makes Dean snort.  _ Redeem for a Favorite Meal _ is easy enough; Sam’s always been a sucker for blueberry pancakes, and Dean thinks he should be able to make syrup for them, too. There’s bacon and fresh eggs, and soon enough Dean’s got several pans going on the stove, circulating between flipping pancakes and turning over bacon. He tips a little bacon grease to do the eggs, watching carefully to make sure he gets them right as the edge sets so they’ll be over-easy just the way both he and Sam like. 

 

“Looks good,” Sam says softly, taking the plate Dean’s holding for him, and snagging an extra piece of bacon from the pan. “Take such good care of me, Dean, thank you.” Dean’s a little slack mouthed at his brother’s words, enough that Sam’s tongue can flick lightly at his teeth when he presses their mouths together. “C’mon. Let’s eat.” 

 

A little jug of blueberry syrup and a dish of butter are already laid out, orange juice in Dean’s glass and milk in Sam’s. Dean can feel his face warm a little more every time Sam praises his cooking, thanking him again once the last bite of the pancakes disappears between his lips. 

 

“That was wonderful.” Gentle words, sincere, and Dean has to wonder at the way they worm themselves beneath his skin. “Come here, Dean.” 

 

Swallowing his last bit of bacon, Dean stands numbly, circling around the table and letting Sam pull him into his lap. Big hands grip his hips, and Sam nuzzles at his chest, breathing in the scent of Dean’s cologne. “Smell good.” 

 

“Sap,” Dean murmurs back. He runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, shivering at the contact when Sam rubs slow circles over Dean’s hip and lower back. 

 

“Love you,” Sam offers sweetly. “Love how caring you are. Love how much of you you give to me and the other people you care about. Love how hard you work to take care of people.” 

 

“Sammy.” His throat is tight, face burning for sure now. Sam doesn’t protest when Dean drops his face down, hiding the red in his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes. Instead, he just makes a shushing sound, rubbing up and down Dean’s back. 

 

“Don’t have to hide from me, Dean,” Sam says against his ear. “S’just me.” Soft lips trace Dean’s cheek, and he turns into their touch until his mouth meets Sam’s. It’s gentle, tender-sweet that part of him wants to balk at, but he lets himself melt into his brother’s arms. He’s hard in a lazy sort of way, touch and praise and Sam’s kisses warming his body up, but Dean’s not chasing an orgasm right now. Sam’s hard too, dick nudging up against Dean’s through their jeans, and Dean slides a hand down to palm at the bulge. 

 

“Mm, don’t have to,” Sam breathes against Dean’s mouth. 

 

“Wanna.” Dean tugs out of Sam’s hold, sliding to the floor. He undoes his brother’s jeans with practiced ease, sliding the fabric down with Sam’s help. Sam’s got a gorgeous cock, veiny in a way that Dean never thought he’d appreciate, thick enough to make his jaw ache. 

 

Slow and steady, Dean sucks and licks, dipping down to nip at Sam’s sack with his lips, tugging at the papery skin just to hear Sam moan. He’s able to tip his head just enough to watch Sam’s face, eyes locked even when Sam gets close. Dean delights in watching Sam bite his lip, trying hard to not buck too hard into Dean’s mouth, hands landing on Dean’s shoulders just to have something to hold onto. 

 

“So fucking good, Dean.” 

  
And Dean knows that Sam isn’t talking about the blowjob. 


	7. Chapter 7

Sam’s sneaky when he wants to be, but Dean’s big brother senses are tingling. He knows that something is up when Sam actually wipes his browser history, and volunteers to go get the mail almost every day for a week. Sure, little brother likes his exercise and getting out in the world, but usually Dean goes along for supply and mail runs. 

 

So. Suspicious. Dean keeps a wary eye on Sam, and a lookout for any new things in the bunker, but nothing comes up for a while. He’s towelling off from the shower when he notices that his clothes are gone. In their place is a pair of panties and what look to be stockings. Next to them is a tube of lube, a pack of razors, some Nair, and a bottle of shaving cream, with a sticky note taped to the top. 

 

_ You can say no to whatever you want, even if it’s all of it.  _ Sam’s messy scrawl stares back up at him, the last coupon attached to the sticky with another piece of tape. He doesn’t even need to look at it. 

 

The benches in the showers come in handy once again. Normally, they’re using them when one or the other is too hurt to stand properly. Now, Dean slathers on Nair and sets a timer on his cell, hurrying to scrape the gunk and hair off when it buzzes. It takes razors to really clean off what the chemical leaves behind, and Dean decides to trim around his cock and does his underarms on a whim. He’s almost glad no one is around when he dips fingers into himself, prepping quickly and wiping the excess off on a towel. 

 

It’s weird to be this smooth, but the easy glide of the stockings up his legs is worth it. Dean finally understands Sam’s secrecy, as well. These panties are made for men, they have to be. No other that he’s ever tried on has held his junk this well, or fit the curve of his hips. They curve along his ass prettily in the mirror, and damn. Dean didn’t think he could turn that shade of pink. 

 

Sam’s waiting in their bedroom, just like Dean hoped. He’s not sure he could’ve talked himself into wandering the bunker dressed like this. Not yet, anyway. Dean closes the door behind him, eyes on his stockinged feet. 

 

“Dean.” Sam speaks so softly, so fondly that Dean has to look up, and he can feel his breath catch with the tender look on his brother’s face. Sam holds out one hand, an invitation that Dean can’t refuse. Tremblingly, he steps close enough to take Sam’s hand, letting himself be pulled in to stand between Sam’s legs. 

 

“You actually shaved.” Careful fingers dance over sensitive skin, feeling the smoothness and bits of stubble where Dean missed. 

 

“Yeah.” The word catches in Dean’s throat, so he opts for silence instead. Sam draws him down for a kiss, letting a thumb rub along his jawline. 

 

“God you’re beautiful.” 

 

“J-Jesus, Sammy.” 

 

Sam spares him more talking, petting careful fingers over the bulge in his panties. “They fit nice. We should get you a few more pairs, hm?” 

 

“Can . . . I pick?” Dean ducks his head as Sam chuckles, but Sam leans up just enough to catch his mouth. 

 

“Yeah, Dean. You can pick. We’ll shop together, get things we both like.” 

 

Dean lets himself be tugged onto Sam’s lap. Fingers trace the hem of his panties, dipping just beneath to tease down the crease of his ass. 

 

“Wanna fuck you in them. That okay?” Sam asks quietly. Dean can only nod, dropping down for a real kiss as Sam tugs the panties just to the side. There’s enough give in them to make room for his fingers, and they moan together when Sam pushes two in. Dean hisses a little at the drag, but he mutters a protest when Sam draws back out. “Need more lube, Dean. Hang on.” 

 

Thankfully the bedside is close enough for Sam to snag one of their bottles, and his freshly-slicked fingers slide in much more smoothly. 

 

“More, Sam. Please?” 

 

“Yeah. I gotcha.” It takes some shuffling to get Sam’s jeans undone enough so they can get his cock free, but they manage together. Dean shifts up on his knees, letting Sam line them up before sinking slowly back down. 

 

“Fuck. So fucking thick, Sam, shit.” Dean’s tingling already, aching to touch his cock and he’s barely got Sam inside him. He clenches just for the feeling of it, and he breathes in the shout that flies from Sam’s mouth. 

 

With Sam’s hands on his hips, Dean builds a desperate rhythm. The bed creaks, sliding just a little along the stone floor, but Sam’s seated solidly enough on it to keep them in place. Dean can feel the drag of the panties along Sam’s dick, the catch of denim on his stockings, and the brushes of his brother’s belly against his panty-clad cock. 

 

“Should dress you up all the time. Pretty panties under your hunting jeans, stockings in your boots.” Sam’s mouth is filth, just like always, and Dean can’t decide if he wants him to shut up or not. “Could put a skirt on you when it’s just you and me. Would you like that? So fucking gorgeous, Dean, God.” 

 

Damnit, he can. He can see Sam sliding his fingers beneath Dean’s jeans just to play with his panty line, or wearing a skirt and blouse during their in-house date nights, riding Sam’s cock just like this with his panties pulled to the side while the TV blares in the background. 

 

“Want it, Sammy. W-want it please?” Dean just barely pushes the words out, thighs burning and knees aching as he drives himself harder, hoping Sam reads him right. 

 

Sam does, of course. He shoves his hips up, meeting Dean’s downward course so they slam together hard. It’s brutal and fast, sure to leave Dean aching and he loves it. Images of himself under Sam, over Sam, sucking Sam while dressed up and down and in almost nothing at all rush by, and he chokes on his breath when Sam closes a hand around his dick. 

 

Dean goes stiff with orgasm, Sam continuing to pound into him as he spills over them both, clinging tightly to his brother’s shoulders. He goes lax just as Sam comes as well, pulling him in tightly. 

  
“Beautiful big brother.” Dean just accepts the kiss Sam drags him into, not wanting the joke that’s teetering on the tip of his tongue to come out. After all, Sam thinks he’s beautiful, and it’s kind of nice to believe. 


End file.
